The Truth Shall Get You Transferred
by Beth Arritt
Summary: Sam overhears a confession from John that sends him running for a transfer.


I don't know where this one came from, it just popped into my head while walking to my car after work one day. It's set in 1999, and it's SJR.

As always, all characters belong to CS, S/MP, NBC and the incredible cast and crew of Profiler. I'm just borrowing them, I promise not to hurt them or make any money off of them, and I swear I'll put them back when I'm done. Comments to [betha@gwis2.circ.gwu.edu][1] are very welcome.

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**The Truth Shall Get You Transferred**  
by Beth Arritt_  
Copyright 1998  
_

John put money in the Coke machine, then slammed his fist into it several times when it refused to give him a drink. "Stupid piece of--"

"That's not going to help," George commented mildly as he walked into the lunchroom. 

John glared at him. "You got a better idea?" George just shrugged. John tried a few kicks on the machine, and was rewarded with a can of soda. He jerked it out of the dispenser and sat down at a table.

George finished fixing his coffee and joined John at the table. "You could try getting what's really bugging you off your chest."

"What's bothering me is the machine."

"Uh-huh."

"Don't give me that look, George," John growled. "If you've got something to say, then say it."

For a second he looked as if he would, but then he shook his head. "Never mind. You wouldn't listen to me anyway." They both drank in silence for a few moments, until George decided to push the issue. "So, Sam's lucky you guys made it in there in time to get her away from that guy. How is she?"

"Fine, I guess. How should I know?"

"I thought maybe you'd checked on her by now."

He received another glare. "She was in her office with the door shut; she didn't look like she wanted to be disturbed, okay?"

"Since when has that stopped you?"

John took a deep breath. "Either spit it out, or get out."

"You can't kick me out of the lunchroom."

"I'm going to kick you out physically if you don't stop."

"Why? How many more times am I going to have to sit here and watch you be completely miserable when Sam's life is threatened and you think you'll never get to tell her how you feel?"

"That's enough, George!"

"What, is Jack actually going to have to catch her again and do some serious damage before you realize you might not have a chance to wait for the 'right' moment?"

"Dammit! I am *not* going to just march up to Sam and say 'Hi, how's it going, by the way, have I told you lately that I love you?'" He broke off his outburst when he realized George was staring over his shoulder. He turned his head slowly and saw Sam standing in the doorway behind him, a shocked expression on her face. He spared a second to shoot a heated glare at George before he pushed past her and took off for the parking garage.

Sam stood there and stared at George for a few seconds. George didn't seem to know what to say, but before he could even formulate a thought, she turned and hurried after John.

***

John was trying to get the key in the lock of his car when he heard Sam calling his name. He tried even harder, only to drop the keys. Muttering curses, he snatched the keys up off the ground and finally got the door unlocked. Unfortunately, that was the second when Sam made it to his car. "Where are you going?"

He couldn't quite look at her. "Out."

"Out?"

"I don't have to account to you."

"After what I just heard? I beg to differ."

"You overheard a piece of a conversation and you think you know everything?"

"I heard enough." She reached up and turned his head to face her. "Look me in the eye and tell me I didn't just hear you say you loved me."

"You didn't just hear me...Oh, Christ, Sam, let it go!" He jerked his head away from her hand and went back to staring at the car.

"See, you can't do it." She put a hand on his arm. "Come on, John, I thought we were at least friends."

He laughed. "Oh yeah, that's it. We're friends. That's it. Friends." He yanked the car door open and jumped in before she could stop him, then took off, slamming the door as he backed out of the parking space. She stood in the empty space, staring after him for a second, then headed for her car.

***

John hadn't been home three minutes when there was a knock on his door. He threw his jacket onto the couch and went to answer the door, prepared to tell whoever it was to go the hell away. He got as far as "Go" before he realized it was Sam. "What do you want?"

"We weren't finished."

"Weren't we? I don't have anything else to say."

"Why don't you listen first, and then see if you still have nothing else to say?" He stared at her. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," he said sarcastically. "Come on in." He opened the door with a flourish, and she stepped inside. After he slammed the door shut, she walked over to the window and stared out. He stood in the middle of the room, unsure what to do next, waiting for her to say something.

"Do you know what it's like, having someone focus on your every move, your every relationship, your every breath, until no part of your life is your own anymore?"

He moved a little closer, standing next to the couch. "No."

"I'm sure I don't have to tell you that it's less than fun. It gets to a point where you can't have a relationship, you can't have a friendship, you can't even have a conversation with someone else because you think 'What if he's watching? What if he gets the wrong idea? Could my saying hello to this person get them killed?'"

"If you're trying to tell me you're not looking for a boyfriend, I already knew that."

"I'm not finished. You get past that, after a while. Some part of you accepts that no matter what you do, no matter how much of an isolationist you become, he's going to kill someone. He has to, it defines him, and if you don't give him the target, he'll find someone else. Either way someone will die. Of course, part of you still feels the guilt, but at least you can function again. But he doesn't want you to do that. So he hits closer and closer to home until you believe that you can't have a life."

"And you think you can't, right?'

"No, I think I can. But then I try to picture myself trying it, and I freeze. I can't do it."

John crossed his arms. "Have you tried lately?"

"Since Coop?" She laughed. "No, I thought I'd take this year off."

"And let him take another year away?"

"Better another year than another love."

"Sam... I don't know what to tell you. As much as I wish I could take back what I said earlier, it's obvious I can't. And you seem to be unable to act like it never happened."

She finally turned to look at him. "Act like it never happened? Go to work every day and look at you and pretend I don't know? No, it has to be dealt with."

"Not if I leave."

"What?"

He shrugged. "A transfer is pretty easy. I just go somewhere else, and you don't have to think about it anymore."

"You think that because you work in another city I'd just forget you?"

His mouth curved into a faint smile. "Well, I'd hope you wouldn't forget me completely. But you would have one less problem to deal with."

"Problem?" She shook her head. "You know what? Maybe discussing this right now isn't the best idea. We should take the weekend to calm down, then talk about it."

"You're probably right." He moved to the door and held it open. "We don't need to discuss this now."

"Fine." She turned back to him once she was on the other side of the door. "I'll see you Monday?"

He gave her a sort of half-smile, half-grimace, and shut the door.

***

Bailey was waiting in her office Monday morning when she arrived at work. "Hey. What's up?"

"I wanted to be the one to tell you before you heard it from someone else. John transferred to a field office."

"WHAT? That cow--" She stopped and made an effort to calm down. "Did he give you a reason for his sudden desire to be elsewhere?"

"Yes he did. And apparently you already know it."

Her eyes widened. "He told you the truth?"

"About the... discussion the two of you had? Yes."

"And you let him go? Just like that?"

Bailey studied her thoughtfully. "He thought it would be best, and so did I. Now I'm not so sure. Is there some reason I should have made him stay?"

"No, no reason at all. If he wants to run off, then let him."

"That's what I figured."

Sam chewed on her lip for a moment. "What office?" she asked finally.

"Excuse me?"

She seemed reluctant to repeat the question. "What office did he transfer to?" 

"I can't tell you."

"What do you mean, you can't tell me?"

"I promised him I wouldn't tell."

"He made you promise... that stu--" She took a deep breath. "I can find out."

"Why, so you can go yell at him?" She nodded. "And what would that help? Nothing. If you ever have a good reason for wanting to know, maybe I'll tell you."

"Is wringing his neck a good reason?"

"No."

"Fine. I don't care where he went. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

He paused for a second, then shrugged and walked out, leaving her to take out her frustration on her desk.

***

Two days later, Sam approached George's office and knocked hesitantly on the door. "Hi, George."

"Hey, Sam, what do you need?"

"Do you have those files from the case in North Dakota decoded yet?"

"The slain writer? Not yet. She had some weird encryption on those things--not a mind I'd like to have to deal with."

"Maybe that's what got her killed."

George shrugged. "The files should be ready soon, though."

"Okay, thanks." She turned as if to leave, then looked back over her shoulder. "Where did John go?"

He blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"What office did he transfer to?"

"I don't know."

"Even if you don't know, you could find out."

"But that would be bad. And more importantly, it would be wrong."

Sam sighed. "Fine. It's probably better that I don't know anyway," she mumbled as she walked out.

***

A full two weeks passed before she showed up at Bailey's office at the end of her rope. She walked in without even knocking and demanded, "Okay, tell me where he is."

Bailey looked up from his phone conversation. "Uh... let me call you back," he told the person on the other end of the line before he hung up. "What was that?"

"I've had it. Tell me where he is."

"Why?"

"So I can yell at him. And then drag him back here by the ear if I have to. It's not the same here without him." The last sentence was almost untelligible.

A hint of a smile danced around the corners of Bailey's mouth. "He's in Savannah. And there's more..."

***

"Hey, John, you coming to Happy Hour?"  
  
"No, thanks, I'm going to finish up this report and go home. I'm beat."

"Okay." His new partner headed for the door, leaving him alone in the section of cubicles. He had just started writing again when he heard a voice behind him.

"I thought you hated doing reports."

He dropped his pen and his whole body tensed. Either he was finally losing his mind, or Sam Waters was in Savannah. He turned around, and sure enough, there she was, standing five feet away. "Yeah, well, it's a good excuse not to go out."

"What's this, the original party boy would rather do a report than go out? Have you been out in the sun too much in the past two weeks?"

"The company here isn't as much fun as it was in Atlanta."

"Then come back to Atlanta."

His jaw tightened. "Bailey send you here to try and woo me back to the VCTF? I didn't know he cared."

"Actually, I had to pry your location out of Bailey. Took me a while to figure out the magic words, but then I can be as stubborn when I don't want to see the writing on the wall as I can when I do."

A glimmer of hope flared in his eyes. "What were the magic words?"

"That I wanted you to come back."

He stood up and leaned against his desk. "Bailey made you say that?"  


"More or less."

"What, my replacement isn't as easy to push around?"

She smiled. "No, we couldn't seem to find anyone who could fill your shoes."

"Bailey hasn't replaced me yet?"  


"He was hoping he wouldn't have to. Can I assume he won't?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"On you. I can't pretend I don't have feelings for you, Sam. Not anymore."

She took a couple of steps toward him. "Did I ask you to?"

He blinked. "No, but..."

"Before I could go to Bailey and tell him I wanted you to come back, I had to know it first." She took a few more steps forward until she was close enough to touch him, but she didn't. "I can't make any promises, but I know that I want you at the VCTF, where you belong."

"Despite what I said?"

"Maybe even because of it. It's made me do a lot of thinking. Hearing you say that scared me. But not because it wasn't what I wanted."

"Does this mean if I go back to Atlanta, you'll go out with me?"

She laughed. "You transferred to another city just to get a date?"  


"For starters. Anything beyond that, well, we'll have to take it one day at a time, right?"

"I'm not making any promises."

"And I'm not asking for any. No strings attached. I didn't leave to make you run after me. I left to make your life easier."

"It didn't work. So will you come back?" He nodded, then leaned down to give her a light kiss. "It shouldn't take more than a week to get transferred back, if Bailey's willing, and it sounds like he is." Sam shook her head. "He's not willing?"

"He's more than willing. But he never transferred you. He made a deal with the SAC here in Savannah to have you on loan for a few weeks. You can start back at the VCTF Monday morning."

"You're kidding." She shook her head. "Remind me to never say anything horrible about him again."

"I will definitely remember that one," she promised with a smile. "So, is there anywhere around here to eat?"

"Well, it's not Atlanta, but the food's okay." He pushed away from the desk and offered her his arm. "Care to have dinner?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

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   [1]: mailto:betha@gwis2.circ.gwu.edu



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